


3. Making History

by ayas3ri



Series: 100 Themes Challenge [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Brotherhood!Ezio, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Female Protagonist, Female pronouns, Fluff, Master/Student Relationship, slight!angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:22:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27385624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayas3ri/pseuds/ayas3ri
Summary: It's time for you to join the Brotherhood with your first kill, hoping to impress your master, Ezio Auditore.
Relationships: Ezio Auditore da Firenze & Reader, Ezio Auditore da Firenze/Reader
Series: 100 Themes Challenge [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745314
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	3. Making History

She lands without a sound,  _ perfectly.  _ A wave of pride engulfs her, but she knows she shouldn’t dwell on that. Days and weeks and months of arduous training—all culminated at this moment. 

The time has come for her to prove her worth; and take her place in the Brotherhood. Prowling the rooftops, blending with the shadows, she approaches her target: a middle-aged wine trader that used his money to take advantage of young women. He was the lowest kind of filth, a degenerate that needed to be eliminated off the Earth. It was hard to witness his atrocities, but the Master said she had to watch, to remember later why she was doing this. To leave regrets behind as she took his life—was she even capable of  _ murder _ ? 

Today, she’ll find out. Even if she excels at combat, stalking, and all it means to be an assassin, she won’t ever be accepted if she doesn’t wet her blade. The initiation was cruel, but she was ready for this. One could say she was born for it, but she might say they’re wrong. The frail girl from before that watched Templars trample her family in cold blood—merely a pawn in their path to greatness—died on that night. Like a phoenix, she was reborn into a merciless and cold-blooded creature, with only a shred of kindness reserved for those who mattered. 

On that night, she lost  _ everything.  _ If it weren’t for the Master stopping them on time, she would’ve joined her family and never know life’s pleasures. Her only regret is not getting to her little sister in time—he deserved more. He deserved better.

So she promised herself that she’s going to do better. Save others selflessly; vengeance meant nothing to her. No one needed to share her fate. Yet none were as lucky as her. 

No more unnecessary killings, no more tears.   
**Only hers.**

She takes a deep breath, all of these thoughts swirling in her head to encourage herself. Master told her it would be hard the first time, but it will get easier the more she does it. It was a sad thought, that this has to be a constant. But her fate has been sealed the moment she stepped into the chamber and swore fealty to the cause.

_ We work in the dark to serve the light… _

The young woman was only prolonging the inevitable. The target was getting closer to her hiding spot, in the dark shadows of an abandoned alley. After days of studying, of following, of pretending she was something she wasn’t, she learned this man’s schedule. She knew his habits by heart, knew what kind of girls she liked, how he tortured them, how much of a filth he can be. The man was a big fan of girls like her, dreamers. It wasn’t hard to get him drunk and spill out his secrets—the groping was the hardest part to bear with. Back then, she felt no remorse when imagining the blade at his throat, cutting it from ear to ear. But she stayed her hand—it will only endanger the Brotherhood to act recklessly. 

So she sated her thirst by waiting. 

“You’re a very nice  _ signorina _ , aren’t you?” the man pinches the flesh of the girl he charmed tonight. It made the assassin’s stomach turn. The girl giggles, a bit unsure. The assassin knew she was only doing this for money; there was no love between the two. She pitied her, but she was used to this cruel and unfair reality, where the rich thrive and the poor die.  “Why don’t we…?” The man’s smile vanishes, throwing a commanding look at his three bodyguards.  _ Business as usual _ , it meant. The assassin knew the men would turn around and pretend not to hear the poor girl’s scream as the man did as he pleased.  _ Not this time.  _

The wine vendor guides the girl in the assassin’s alley, as predicted. It was a favorite spot of his, close to the bar he frequented: a bar  _ he  _ owned. What will happen to it after his death? She knew he had a family and a boy that would inherit riches. Afterward, she’ll keep an eye on him; there’s no need for another leech. Her actions, she knew well, will only inspire hate, but such is life if you want freedom and justice. 

She can bear that cross.

The target is getting closer, hands all over the girl’s body. At first, she’s playing along—but the vendor is not playing nicely. He takes what he wants by force and, soon enough, her clothes are torn off her. The girl screams and tries to run away, but he grabs her wrists, and violently slaps her face. The girl’s knees crumble underneath her and she’s falling, blood dripping from split lips. 

The man only laughs at this, eyes gleaming greedily as he stares at her helpless form. 

“ _ You’re mine now. _ ” 

He licks his lips and undoes his belt, dropping his pants. The girl groans on the ground, dazed. But when she sees the shriveled member dangling in her face, ready to pounce, she screams and tries to crawl away. She forgets he has an iron grip on her wrist and it hurts her.

“Yes, yes! Struggle more!” 

The guards don’t flinch and deter all curious gazes. At this moment, the assassin had enough. She had her doubts, staying there in the shadows and watching:  _ was she capable of this? Did this man deserve to die and leave a young boy without a father?  _

However, she could also see that there was no redemption in this man. He will never change; he’ll continue to profit off of young women, no matter what. His time has come and, silent as a cat, she stands up and steps towards the two struggling figures. The vendor was now getting annoyed with the girl’s refusal, spittle falling out of his mouth as he told her to stop. The assassin had to admit she was putting on quite a fight; but she stopped as she spotted the assassin behind the man’s back. Her eyes widened in surprise—then taken over with a new kind of fear. 

_ How must the assassin look to her?  _

Her face was half-hidden by the white cowl, but she could still see the coldness in her eyes—the dangerous gleam that attracted her Master’s attention. With a flick of the wrist, she activates the blade and, before the woman could scream once again, she plunges it deep into the man’s neck. 

Blood started spurting from the wound, landing on the girl’s face. The vendor’s hand lets her go and she scrambles away, backing up a wall, shivering. Staring at what was happening in front of her, as the assassin gently lays the man down—no matter how much he didn’t deserve it. The man struggles to form words as he chokes on his own blood, looking up at his killer. She holds his gaze, a silent angel of death, unrelenting. With this killing, something in her truly broke and she couldn’t wait to tell her Master that she was ready for whatever came next. Her heart was with the Brotherhood, now until her demise. These monsters didn’t deserve to live—and she was the reaper that will cull them. 

Carefully, still holding the gaze, watching the man’s life seep out of him, too slowly, she brings out the feather. A ridiculous thing, in her opinion, but sacred to the rest. She won’t question the creed now. Like a lover’s caress, she dips the feather in his blood—it quickly stains as the man’s eyes glazed over, close to death’s door.

“We—We only…” he breathes out, struggling. He’s watching something else now, far above her reach. She listens to his last plea. “...want...order.” 

With that, his hand that was about to grip the assassin’s collar falls to the ground. Mission complete: the target has been eliminated. A cruel smile adorns her lips, basking in the glory her fist death brought—a mistake, as the girl, forgotten, starts screaming.

“Murderer!!” 

A hint of annoyance graces the assassin’s features as she stands up, glaring at the girl. Where was her _'_ _ thank you'  _ f or saving her? Things would’ve ended much worse for her if it weren’t for the assassin; but Master warned her not to seek approval. Sometimes, she won’t get any gratification for her deeds. As an assassin, she must live away from all this. She must be above it. So, instead of shushing her up, the assassin smiles like a mother scolding her child. 

Of course, the guards hear and turn around, arms ready, shouting. Their master was dead at the feet of a figure clad in white, identity shielded. They could only see two eyes glinting dangerously and a cruel grin, whispering: 

“ _ Requiescat in pace.”  _

**

Only five of the eight assassins that set out this night came back: and she was one of them. 

Getting out of that predicament wasn’t hard; she was a natural at climbing buildings and vanishing out of sight. It wasn’t long before she left the alarms behind her, enjoying the crisp air of the night. Only when she stopped she realized her heart was beating fast—with adrenaline or fear, she didn’t know. But the deed was done and she felt  **nothing.** Staring at the dried blood on her fingers, she remembered the feeling of the act, as the pulse weakened. 

Somehow, it made her sad. Shaking her head, she made sure no one was following her before arriving at the Brotherhood headquarters, where her teachers were anxiously (and solemnly) waiting for her. She didn’t expect to be met with applause from her fellow assassins, but she enjoyed their happiness. She lived another day—and there’s one less stain in the world. As she received pats on the back, she also received the bad news: three new novices didn’t make it and got caught. They won’t be seen again. Her heart ached at that, but she couldn’t help but feel glad that she made it. She was initiated now. 

And she didn’t plan on leaving.

After the tumult died down, she finally gets a respite as the others prepare for the celebration party. She wasn’t sure she was in the mood for such an occasion, but her nerves were still alert and she needed to relax. As the crowd dispersed, moving onto another novice like her, she finally caught the eye of her beloved Master: 

**Ezio Auditore da Firenze.**

She dislikes the way her heart seizes at his sight, her admiration turned into something more over the course of her training. She didn’t plan on it, but he was young and handsome, and she still believed in love. It was wrong of her, she knew it very well. He was her teacher, a few years older than her, and her savior. At the same time, he was her captor, stealing her heart with a flirtatious grin and a cheesy pick-up line. The assassin heard his story from the other novices, about how his family was hung, down to his little brother. They shared a similar path that only brought them closer until it was too late to turn back. He chose vengeance—and she mercy. 

If only they weren’t in this deadly situation…

There was no time for romance in the Brotherhood; his actions told as much. Or was she misinterpreting? She wanted to believe there was more to it than the innocent remarks, the gentle touches, the sultry whispers. 

“Ezio? He’s a damn womanizer,” Claudia, his sister, confessed to you one day. “Don’t fall for his honeyed words.” 

It only sowed doubt in her heart. She was nothing special. Other beautiful  _ donnas  _ could attract his attention.

Yet, for now, she delighted in his warm gaze, pride in that cocky smile of his. Her body was enveloped in a hotness that crossed from head to toe. Ezio had that kind of effect on her, as if he could undress her with just one look—probably without him even wanting to. The brown-haired man exuded potency and it only made her desire him more. 

She tore her gaze from him, cheeks flushed and embarrassed. This was not the time for these thoughts—and it was only souring her mood. She should be happy she could finally fight by his side, as equals. Hopefully, he’d want her to join him on important life or death missions where she’ll prove herself worthy of his attention, if she hadn’t until now. Straightening her back, the young assassin joined the others in the revelry, knowing she couldn’t approach him right now. Maybe later he’ll come to congratulate her. 

She hoped for it. 

** 

It was good to loosen up and discard her assassin robes; at least, for now. With warm mead in her cup, held between her cold hands, she sat at a table with a few of her peers, discussing their kills. It was getting rather tiresome by now and hearing the gruesome details wasn’t her cup of tea. She tried to lighten the mood with a bit of goofiness, but it didn’t stick. The smell of bloodshed was intoxicating everyone—aside from the alcohol in the room, of course. A ballad was sung in the background and she swayed to it, staring at her cup. 

Ezio didn’t come once by her table. She figured it was just because he couldn’t show any signs he preferred her over the others. It was only fair—but it still hurt. All she could do was drown her sorrows with cup after cup, until she could see double. Almost, anyway; the world was a blur. It didn’t help that alcohol made her slightly aroused, so looking at Ezio was getting harder by the minute. 

“ _ Cazo _ ,” she breathes under her breath, knowing she needs air or she will lose it. “I’ll be right back,” she says to no one in particular, but one of the novices nods before resuming the conversation. With wobbly steps, she found the stairs that went up and up, winding and winding. It was all confusing but, somehow, she ended up on the roof: the place for the leap of faith. The young girl didn’t get to do it yet and now, inebriated, had half in mind to jump. Test her might against the odds and prove—prove what? She didn’t know, her mind was blurry. At least the morning air, still not dawn yet, but close, sobered her up a bit. She took a deep inhale, closing her eyes—up above felt good. 

Then a crazy thought popped into her head: wasn’t she ready for the big leap? She didn't need someone to hold her hand while she was doing this. At least, not after the first time. Opening her eyes, she stares at the wooden beam, scratched with memories and so many assassin feet. Putting on a brave face, she prepared herself for this step—and it doesn’t take her long to get up the ledge. Slowly, she walks down the beam, balancing perfectly over the chasm. Daring to take a peek, she sees the tiny stack of hay on the pavement, not looking very safe. Her heart rate picks up, but she’s more intrigued than scared. After all, what did she have to lose? 

If things went wrong, she’d miss Ezio’s smile the most. Probably the only thing keeping her here, on Earth—and the cause she was serving. The problem was her Master will  _ never  _ love her back. Didn’t she hear he had a sweetheart back in Firenze? Of course he did—guys like him never stay single unless they expressly want it. 

She stops in her steps, the wind ruffling her tresses. It felt nice, but her good mood is soured by the bittersweet feelings she was holding inside.  _ Dio _ , she hated when she drank too much—she drowns in her sentiments and can’t swim back to the surface. Soon enough, tears start streaming down her face, tasting bitter, and it only frustrates her. 

Stupid love. Idiotic her. Damn Ezio. 

She wipes her face, but the tears won’t stop. Before she loses patience and courage, she takes another step on the beam, till the edge, creaking dangerously. An eagle squeaks somewhere above her, drawing circles—she felt reassured by that. One more—she looks down, the Earth titling, but she has no reason to care. She had to do this—just believe. 

Inhale—

“ _ Cara mia! _ ” 

The woman almost jumps out of her skin and loses balance at the sound of a distressed voice. She could recognize that low timbre anywhere—and the last thought as she was falling was that he was the last person she wanted to see. If she fell and missed, he’d lose a precious pupil; how stupid she was for ever thinking of doing this without his help! 

At least—

But Ezio has quick reflexes and he catches her before she plunges to her death, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her back to the safety—of his arms—of the ledge. Her arms automatically wrap around his body, enjoying the sensation of his warmth enveloping her. She inhales his crisp musk, losing her mind over it. For a few seconds, Ezio returns the embrace, holding her so tight he might crush some bones. It was rare of him to show affection—if it really was the case—so the young apprentice was taken by surprise. 

Still—was it just the alcohol or did he call her his sweet? 

It all ends abruptly, though, as he pulls away from her, anger blazing in those amber-colored eyes. “What were you thinking?” Before the girl could answer, he notices her glassy eyes and the tear streaks. He softens up—after all, it was rare for him to get mad nowadays. In his youth, he was a vengeful spirit, seeking out his family’s killers. 

But now, “What happened,  _ bella _ ?” 

Again with the pet names. What was going on with him? Was he as intoxicated as her? Peering into his lovely gaze, she could see he was as sober as he could be. She didn’t see him with a glass yet—although she avoided looking at her master too long. 

She tried to steady her heart as she smiled sheepishly, hiding her expression, “Alcohol and I don’t mix, unfortunately.” 

“Come down before you hurt yourself, alright?” he guides her by the hand, back to safety, and she sits down on a random crate. The adrenaline left her and she was coming back to reality—but she was more aware of his proximity than ever, as he sat down next to her on that small piece of box. His knee was touching hers and she felt jittery sparks. Still, she pushed the thought away and focused on his words—or more, on the way he carefully took her hand in his. 

“Why did you do that?” he asks, calmer now. His voice was soothing and it only made her want to cry some more.  _ It just wasn’t fair.  _

“All assassins need to do the leap of faith, no? I was trying it out.” She shrugs her shoulders as if she tried to avoid a direct answer: that the reason for this was  _ him _ . 

Ezio is rubbing circles in her palm with his finger, sending shivers down her spine. “Then why the tears?” 

“It was the wind.” 

“I don’t believe it.” 

“Master, I—” 

“Call me Ezio from now on.” He grins, the moon highlighting the scar on his lips. He has taken off his hood, but not his white robe. His brown hair tied in a ponytail added to his charm, as always. It was rare to see him uncovered, and so she admired him closely without shame. He noticed her interest and his eyes took a flirtatious shape, leaning in. But it lasts only a moment before he goes on, “Do you regret killing that man?”

She shakes her head, vehemently, “No.” 

“Then?”

“The alcohol—it makes me emotional, that’s all.” She realizes she’s too close to falling into his trap—taking advantage of an inebriated woman was exactly the first move of a womanizer. She wants to get away from him, to remain master and student forever. There was no need for heartbreak, there was no need to pretend there was something going on when it wasn’t the truth. 

Still, she doesn’t move a muscle, preferring to stay there and enjoy the moment. How little she could. 

He chuckles—a beautiful sound to her ears. She feels her heart melting and turns her head to the side so he doesn’t notice her blush. 

“It’s good to see other sides of you,  _ bella _ ,” he whispers, softly. “I’m proud of you.”

“ _...Grazie. _ ” 

Silence followed, a pause to let tears dry and unspoken words be said. His presence was comforting, as always, but she disengaged her hand from his. That was too much for her—and it only gave her unwanted ideas. Either way, it was nice to hear that he cared. The only thing he made concrete is their positions in this relationship: so close yet so far away. In some situations, there were boundaries that couldn’t be crossed.

As they were sitting there in peace, dawn emerged, painting the dark sky with strokes of orange and pink. 

“Oh!” she exclaimed, eyes lighting up with glee. “It’s beautiful!” 

The young woman was aware, in the back of his mind, that her words were the perfect set up for a pick-up line. Ezio didn’t hesitate to seize the opportunity to say something cheesy, a huge grin on his face as if he was going to say the most intelligent thing in the world. 

“Not as beautiful as you,  _ tessoro. _ ” 

Her old self would’ve swooned at the prospect of a wealthy young man being interested in her silly person. But she’s not the person from a few years ago, when all she could think of was giggling with the other girls and dreaming about poems from secret admirers. Those were happier times, when everyone was alive and there was never killing involved. 

But the new one, the ruthless assassin of the night that was just anointed, didn’t take kindly to pointless romance. She stood up, a whirlwind of fury and shame, glaring down at her master—the person of her affection. The woman wanted no more than his empty promises to be real, for him to love her as she did. The looks they shared weren’t just a bunch of lies. Maybe Ezio was eating her up whenever they locked gazes and there was a twinkle of softness in the smile he offered her. He wasn’t cocky like when he flirted with other  _ donnas  _ that came in his path. Those women were only a means to get to vital information—so there was no point in getting jealous.

Even if Ezio glanced back at her whenever he was getting too close to a lady; that gesture she never missed. 

She could only wonder:  _ what was the point?  _

Ezio Auditore is looking up at her with surprise in his amber eyes. He saw her angry before, at her inability to progress or understand the proper techniques. The young man found it rather endearing to see her cheeks puff like a squirrel. It was one of the many things he admired and loved about her—the girl who went through hell and came back a demon. 

“Don’t say words that you don’t mean, Auditore—I mean,  _ Master _ !” 

“ _ Cara _ —” 

“There you go again! I am not one of your courtesans, Ezio, to flirt and toy with!” She was pouring her soul into the words, mixed with hurt and longing. “We both know  _ we  _ are abnormal, we—” They’ve stepped the boundaries when they’ve leaned towards another for a kiss, then rudely interrupted before it was too late. They’ve stepped boundaries when they shared intimacies and let innocent gestures turn to something more serious. The tears are back again in her eyes—she hated how weak alcohol made her. 

“If you are not serious about it, then—” 

“Hey, you’re not even letting me speak!” Ezio stood up now, taking a step towards her. He wasn’t pissed off, but genuinely surprised by her outburst. “I thought you understood!” 

The young woman’s heart was screaming, so she obstinately raised her chin in defiance. What was there to understand? 

“That I am a fool?” Ezio takes another step, towering over her; but she doesn’t wait for another fake embrace. In an act of madness, she climbs the ledge again and, without even thinking about it, she  **jumps.**

In mid-air, she spreads her arms to the side, on instinct. She feels the current rush her, but she is still falling like a dead weight towards the ground. She doesn’t even want to watch, if she was going to hit the mark or not. She trusted her destiny, she trusted the creed, she trusted her master, and she believed she was an eagle like all the rest. 

_ No one was going to miss her anyway. Her family is waiting _ —

But her guardian angel is watching in the form of Ezio Auditore; she’s not yet aware but he followed her. She wasn’t going to let her do something stupid, so he jumped and rushed to her rescue. She might’ve passed an important test today, but leap of faiths weren’t to be taken lightly. What if she did this all by herself—what if he weren’t there to save her? Ezio didn’t want to think about that as he took her in his arms, holding her tight to his chest. He rolls so she falls on top of him; he notices she’s closing her eyes tight, a small smile on her face. 

They fall into the pile of hay with a soft thud, just like Ezio predicted. He had a sixth sense for this and he never missed. But the young man, most of all, felt  _ fear.  _

The new assassin pops her head out of the haystack, breathing out in excitement. She hops out of it, laughing maniacally. 

“That was fan—”

“ _ Fanculo! Sei una stupida bella ragazza! _ ” She was interrupted by Ezio’s loud and angry voice as he rose from the hay. The lone drunks prowling the streets scattered away, scared of the outburst. She only watches him like a scolded student, remembering the times she failed to impress him. The man grabs her shoulders, peering down at her. There was an unspeakable sentiment in his eyes, varying from anger, fear, and relief. A mix of all of them that made her cheeks go red from shame. She felt completely stupid by her actions—and she swears she’s going to atone for her sins. 

“I apolo—” 

“ _ A cosa cazzo stavi pensando? _ ” he goes on, his Italian accent thick and choked from too much excitement. She keeps her mouth shut, lets him vent out and awaits her punishment. However, he had other plans in mind, his calloused hands moving up to rest on her cheeks. He tilts her head up and they gaze into each other’s eyes, like two forgotten lovers. “ _ Idiota. _ ”

“ _ Si _ ,” she acknowledges.

“Don’t—” and he dips low, capturing her soft lips with his. It takes her a few seconds to wake up to reality, but he’s parting by the time she comes to her senses. “—do—” Again, he’s kissing her, slower, making her aware of the feel. She overcomes the shock and gets swept off her feet by the intensity of his feelings. “—that—” She’s ready for him now, leaning in to meet him halfway, pouring her heart out. This was a turning point in their relationship and they both knew it. “—again,  _ bella. _ ”

Ezio calmed down, resting his forehead on hers, gazing deeply. She sighs in content, never wanting for this moment to end or prove to be a dream. 

“Ezio.” It’s the only thing she can say, feeling weak in the knees. She was glad he was holding her, rubbing her thumb over her skin. “I won’t, I won’t. Promise.” 

He looks at her for a lie, but sees none. Instead of kissing her again, he hugs her, petting her hair and inhaling her scent. 

“I thought—fool that I am—that I lost you.” These words, said in a soft tone, warmed her. She hugged him as tight as she could, closing her eyes and enjoying the way his body felt underneath the clothes. “I tried not to worry about you; I know you can handle yourself, I’ve seen you, but—” he takes a shuddering breath, his emotions raw on his face. “—I’ve lost so much,  _ cara. _ ” He loosens his grip on her again, planting another needy kiss on her ripe mouth, one she gladly returns. For a few precious moments, they get lost in the feeling. His beard was scratching her skin, but she didn’t mind because this was all she ever wanted. 

“I don’t want to lose you too,” he explains, defeated. “And, trust me, I am not pulling this out of my ass.” His amber eyes were mesmerizing, drawing her into his madness. He tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear, “I’ve come to admire your cunning, your bravery, and your determination.”

“Ezio…” she wants to believe this was right, but this was wrong. The reasonable part of her needed reassurance. “We are not allowed. What will the others say? You are my—my master.” She was getting nervous and fidgety. For now, nothing Ezio could do would calm her. He let her go on, express everything. “I could never—compare with—” She took a deep breath. “The point is, we can’t go on, whatever this is.” 

As a response, he laughs lightly. “You worry too much.” She pouts, but he goes on, “I thought about this too, but I am sure of what I am feeling.” Ezio takes her hands and brings them to his mouth, caressing them lightly. In her eyes, he looked so beautiful, with his eyes closed and long lashes, a few strands of hair falling over his face. He opens them, amber eyes sparkling in the upcoming light. “ **You are my equal now.** We serve the same purpose. I don’t see you as a simple pupil—I couldn’t overlook such a beautiful lady like yourself.”

She rolls her eyes, “Stop.” 

“I am serious. Is it wrong for me to want more out of us?” Those puppy eyes only melted her resolve, just like he wanted to. “I’ve set my eyes on you a long time ago, but you never fell for my attempts. It... _ baffled  _ me. You had me intrigued. All this time,  _ you  _ had me around your finger, not the opposite.” 

The woman can’t help but laugh at that, “I don’t believe it!” 

“You had more power than you think.” Suddenly, he turns sheepish, for the first time, unsure. “ _ Cazo _ , this is not the way I planned the confession.” 

“It’s still romantic,” she added helpfully, trying to make him feel better. 

It worked as he grins cockily. “I’m glad I still have charm,  _ bellissima. _ ” He leans over, brushing their lips together like feathers. Ezio breathes on her mouth, seductively, “My eyes are only for you, no matter how impossible it sounds. We’re not so different, you and I.” 

“How do you know I feel the same way, Auditore?” she whispers back, already caught in his web. This was the last step that got her tangled—and she had no plans on escaping. She was a big fool and maybe she’ll cry later, but she shouldn’t regret it. 

_ There was nothing left to lose.  _

“Are you joking?” Ezio laughs, slowly pushing her against a nearby wall. It felt cold under the thin fabric of her clothes and she shuddered. The brown-haired man seemed to like that. “I can see it in the way your body and mind bend to my will. How your breath stops for a second at my sight—” his teeth lightly graze her earlobe and, indeed, her breath hitched in her throat. “—and you can’t take your eyes off me.” 

“Same goes to you.” She retorts, not backing down now. 

“ _ Ovviamente _ .” 

He’s practically purring by now, hands itching to roam all over her. Instead, he calms down and begs you, “Can’t you just give us a chance?” 

Her palms cup his face, rubbing his short stubble, pretending to think about it. She takes on the sexiest tone she could muster without feeling too embarrassed by it, and responds, “I’d like to take it slow…” Ezio distracts her how he knows best: by planting butterfly kisses over her neck. It was hard to think about anything else while he was lavishing her with his attention. 

“Anything for you,  _ dolcezza _ . As long as you’re mine.” 

Morning was upon them—she could hear people waking up in their houses, ready for another day. In that instant she was aware of that, she noticed how tired she felt; sleep must come after such an eventful day. At the same time, Ezio seemed wide awake and ready to take advantage of this newly established relationship. His kisses were turning more than innocent—and she was melting like butter under his touch. 

“Shall we move this elsewhere?” he asks, eager to possess her whole being. 

“Take it slow, remember?” 

He snorts, rolling his eyes. In a few swift motions, he has her pinned on the wall with her arms above her head—she couldn’t escape. Before she could protest, they are both locked in an intense make-out session, with tongue and nothing to inhibit them. They’re kissing passionately, hungrily, like two feral creatures just discovering each other. It holds everything they wanted to say, the pent-up frustration and innate desire. It sends tingles down her spine and lust in his body. He doesn’t want to take it slow—not one bit—but he understands her reluctance.

All he needs to do is persuade her he meant every word. 

“I can’t take it slow,” he says when they take a short break. Her mind is spinning as he’s kissing her again with intensity. “But I’ll make a sacrifice.” 

He stops, leaving her breathless and panting, wanting for more. Ezio could see it in her eyes—a reflection of his own want. How bad did he want to ravage his pupil and make her beg for more…

He shudders just from thinking about it. “Together, we are  **making history** ,  _ bella. _ ” 

“Fine…” she says, sweat running down her skin and into unexplored territories. He couldn’t help but focus on a drop, mesmerized by the movement. “Just—” she was surrendering and this vulnerability endeared him. “—take good care of me, alright?” 

He smirks, “Of course.”


End file.
